The 'Isn't' Moment
by KadiToka-Chii
Summary: Really, this doesn't mean anything.


_The _**Isn't **_Moment _

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**stuff;** Spectra x Gus, during the in da warehouse~  
**disclaimer;** I do not own Bakugan.

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He awoke to blurred darkness, soft breaths, and a thick lock of hair clinging to his jaw.

There was a brief flash of irate confusion when his hand refused to come up to brush it away; it took a moment for Spectra to realize that it was trapped beneath the coat that wrapped around him protectively.

With a groggy growl, he shifted his arm beneath the heavy fabric – and froze when a light mumble answered the movement, and the warmth he now registered against his shoulder shifted.

Breathing sharply in surprise, he twisted his neck to the side; dusky blue and the haggard face of his companion greeted him. Gus was propped carelessly against the warehouse wall and his master, closed eyes unconscious to the world and one of his legs swinging off the edge of the crate Spectra was using as a bed.

Spectra wrinkled his nose and hissed in disbelief as he nudged the other boy's side with his elbow; Gus' hair was starting to tickle his chin.

The body twitched away from his forearm involuntarily, and his brow furrowed for a moment. But before Spectra could even begin to hope he'd be free from the weight holding him down, Gus fell back, head nestled against his shoulder.

… This was rather uncomfortable.

Spectra groaned inwardly, blinking his eyes sluggishly as he dragged them to the box stacked above him, where he could see the dark red sheen of his mask in the dim light. There was an impulse to grab it, settle it comfortably over his face; the impulse was drowned out by a much more natural notion to get _the hell back to sleep_.

Sighing ruefully, Spectra turned back to the more important matter at hand. Narrowed blue eyes were forced back around to glare at Gus distastefully. Much too close for comfort… if he could just wake him up, he'd be able to get some peace; he could already see Gus scurrying away in embarrassment, eager to give his master the space needed for a comfortable nap.

"Ah…"

He went still again. Gus was nodding his head drowsily, hands coiled loosely around his midriff and fingertips digging into his flimsy shirt. There was an oblivious listlessness on his drawn features, unable to be hidden behind the tangles of hair thrown across his face; Spectra had to wonder if the younger boy had been quite this grey and exhausted looking before.

It was only when Gus shivered, for a fleeting moment, that he remembered whose coat it was that was draped over him.

He thought back, imagination wondering at how this scene came to be and confident in its theory; foolishly loyal Gus bustling about frantically as his master drifted to sleep, concern causing him shed his jacket in sacrifice to Spectra, and then finally his overworked instinct drew him to the nearest source of comfort…

As noiselessly as possible, Spectra slipped his free arm out from under the makeshift blanket to brush the lock of hair gently off the side of his face; a few stubborn, static strands refused to release their hold on his fingers until he pulled his hand away.

There was a minute. A minute of nothing but the relaxed rise and fall of Gus' thin chest, of Spectra's own weary breaths, and of a disturbingly pleasant feeling of –

_Contentment_.

His fatigue was making him imagine these disgustingly warm, fuzzy feelings. And that was where Spectra drew the line.

He no longer cared if it could be perceived as defeat; Spectra let his head fall against his chest, lightly bumping against Gus'. Let this strange situation be resolved in the morning, when his mind was alert and clear and ready to any sort of… _supple_ thoughts.

Before he allowed himself to fall back into the bliss of slumber, he flicked his hand awkwardly; a few seconds of struggle, and he managed to get the edge of the coat to fall over Gus' knee. He moved slightly, just enough so that Gus could curl in closer to the warmth without being jerked awake.

… Good enough. If he dared to try and look out any more for the boy, he'd just be going soft.

After all, this was nothing more than a slip-up in his indifference that no one had to know about. He was just incredibly tired.


End file.
